


A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Scumm Bar

by thedevilchicken



Category: Monkey Island, Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Ficlet, Gen, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-03-28
Updated: 2004-03-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 19:17:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4233570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/pseuds/thedevilchicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Guybrush is not the only famous pirate in the Caribbean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Scumm Bar

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Livejournal on 28 March 2004, in response to a request for a MI/POTC crossover!

They made the Scumm Bar into a sushi restaurant and everyone knows that Melee Island went downhill from there; soon enough the only boat a pirate could get work on was Captain Kate's glass-bottom island tours, and she still hadn't forgiven Guybrush for landing her - mostly inadvertently - in the Phatt Island jail. So his options were really rather limited: stay home in the mansion and take meeting minutes for his wife, the governor, or... Nope, he couldn't actually come up with another option. Not one. Even Carla and Otis - okay, _especially_ Carla and Otis - weren't talking to him. His only friend in the world was a talking demonic skull - now how sad was _that_. 

The sushi place wasn't exactly the most fun he'd ever had, or the best food, but there were usually a couple of salty old seadogs brooding over their raw fish and the sake wasn't _bad_ per se. It just wasn't, y'know, proper gut-rotting, mug-burning old piratey grog. And after a while his pirate buddies started to zone out on him - usually about mid-way through a particularly enthused telling of his LeChuck Evaporating Story. Now that was just plain rude. After all, Guybrush _had_ saved the whole darn Caribbean from the Ghost, err, Zombie, hmm, _Demon_ Pirate LeChuck and his skeletal minions. It seemed no one really cared anymore, what with the recession on and all. It was almost as bad as the Largo Embargo. 

The last disrespectful pirate dropped off asleep, face-first in his partially-eaten eel, and Guybrush sighed, sipping at his sake. This wasn't exactly the life he'd had planned - he was supposed to be a Mighty Pirate, scourge of the Seven Seas, not a hen-pecked househusband landlubbing on Melee Island. Even the piranha poodles seemed to be mocking him. He sighed again. Time to get home to his plunderbunny. 

But before he could even turn around, the door opened. There was a rush of fresh Caribbean air came in straight off the beach before a bunch of rowdy men all crowded in. 

"I thought this was a pirate bar," said one, in a very proper British accent. 

"It used to be," said Guybrush sadly, without turning. He poured himself another cup of warm sake. "'Till they threw out the grog and started selling blowfish on a bed of wild rice."

"Now that's a bloody shame, I tell you." Guybrush looked up at the second man, currently nancing across the room with oddly fascinating swaying dreads and swaying hips. "This bar was once the best not in Tortuga." He sighed dramatically and dropped down onto the stool there beside Guybrush. He whipped off his hat with a flourish. "Captain Jack Sparrow," he said, and held out one grubby, tanned and distinctly piratey hand; Guybrush's eyes lit up as he took it. 

"Of the Black Pearl?"

"The very same," said Jack, with a nod and a wink. Somewhere amongst the now sake-supping crew, the proper Brit rolled his eyes. 

"Guybrush Threepwood, pleased to meet you."

Jack frowned and examined Guybrush's decidedly pasty-pale hand at arm's length. "He as puzzled out the Secret of Monkey Island?" he asked, with an air of apparent wonder. 

"The very same."

Jack's face split in a grin, showing off his gold teeth. Guybrush found himself getting faintly jealous. "Then have I got a tale to tell you, mate!" Jack said. "But it's a tale best told at sea, you savvy?"

Slowly Guybrush nodded, and rose to his feet; he had a feeling the pirates couldn't wait to get out of the unimpressive former bar, and he was more than happy to leave with them. Through the window he saw the sails of the Black Pearl, the galleon dark as night against the moonlit sea. He'd get back to Elaine in the morning. She'd cope without a jumped-up secretary for one meeting, he was sure, and it even meant she didn't have his pitifully deficient shorthand to grumble about. 

"Did you ever hear about the Ghost Pirate LeChuck?" Guybrush asked as they walked. 

Jack smiled and settled an arm about Guybrush's shoulders. "Did you ever hear about the Ghost Pirate Barbossa?"

They both grinned, and left the bar.


End file.
